


makoa gibraltar sucks at hiding his sex tape

by debilitas



Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: Aftercare, Dirty Talk, Enthusiastic Consent, Insecurity, M/M, Oral Sex, Overstimulation, Pining, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Service Top, Sex Tapes, Size Difference, Size Kink, Smut, Strap-Ons, Threesome - M/M/M, Trans Crypto | Park Tae Joon, Trans Male Character, Trans character topping a trans character, Trans nikolas, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Voyeurism, crying from overstimulation but like in a good way
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-10
Updated: 2020-11-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:34:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27485080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/debilitas/pseuds/debilitas
Summary: “Want me to look into the camera?”“Shit, yeah. Ain’t embarrassed?”“Nah. Never.”Taejoon’s hand snaps to his mouse, clicking like the button had offended him. The window closes, taking the video with it.
Relationships: Crypto | Park Tae Joon & Makoa Gibraltar, Makoa Gibraltar/Nikolas | Makoa Gibraltar's Ex-Boyfriend, crypto/gibraltar/nikolas
Comments: 2
Kudos: 31





	makoa gibraltar sucks at hiding his sex tape

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by [this art](https://twitter.com/squibstash/status/1309497708659593221?s=21) (nsfw link)
> 
> so this was originally just the first part then I read the leaked comic for this season and well. nik sexy. so here’s a “everything’s the same but nik and gib r still together au” bc it’s porn and plot doesn’t matter   
> written by a trans man. crypto no top chop and his chest is given direct attention during sex so if u have intense dysphoria abt ur chest area this might not be the fic for u. love u

_“Want me to look into the camera?”_

_“Shit, yeah. Ain’t embarrassed?”_

_“Nah. Never.”_

Taejoon’s hand snaps to his mouse, clicking like the button had offended him. The window closes, taking the video with it.

He’s used to this: rummaging around in people's digital dirty laundry, finding his fair share of compromising files. It’s part of the process, really, so common it’s to be expected.

Average people don’t fear the things he does; aren’t afraid to show their bodies, their faces on camera. So why would Makoa?

 _It’s different now_ , a nagging voice in the back of Taejoon’s head tells him. _You like him._

And it’s because he likes Makoa that he’s less comfortable digging through the man’s computer. He’d been complaining about his laptop for weeks on end, until Taejoon took the hint and offered to fix it.

Someone with his level of skill, serving tech support. He must _really_ like Makoa.

The problem was simple enough: some amateur malware and insufficient storage space. It was while sorting through duplicate files and bloatware that he found the video that’s haunting him.

Buried between what looked like vacation photos was a thirty minute long MP4. Taejoon thought he’d take it upon himself to trim it down and optimize the large file, opening it with a confident click of the wireless mouse.

Upon loading, he was greeted by darkness, like something was blocking the camera. Then came soft sounds that were just barely audible in Taejoon’s headphones. Squinting in confusion, he gave the rvolume button a few taps.

Breathing. Low, hitched breaths were in his ears. Followed by an unmistakably wet noise, and the camera finally moved. A bit of motion blur from the user moving it before Makoa’s face came into view.

Though dimly lit and grainy, it was unmistakably Makoa Gibraltar. Dark hair tied in a messy, low ponytail with a few strands hanging on the sides of his square face. Thick brows knit together the way they do when he concentrates, eyelids heavy. 

And, more importantly, there was a cock in his mouth. One big hand wrapped around the base, head bulging against the inside of his cheek.

“Want me to look into the camera?” He asked the man behind it, voice playful. Then, after receiving confirmation, he took the length back into his mouth, eyes locking into place. Looking directly at the viewer— at _Taejoon_.

The window is closed, but the image doesn’t leave his mind. He risks a glance toward the door — locked, as always, then back to the screen. His gut churns.

He stays like that until the monitor’s light dims, threatening to go into standby mode. It’d be so easy to let it, to snap it shut and return it in the morning. 

The grainy image of Makoa returns to the forefront of his mind, making his cheeks burn. It’s just as easy to reopen the folder and click on the video.

Skimming through it this time, he watches Makoa please his partner— Nikolas, wasn’t it? Moving the length of his dick in and out of his mouth, coating it with spit. He plays it up a bit for the camera, sure, but it’s tender nonetheless. 

It hurts Taejoon in a way, makes his heart ache with jealousy and desire. To know that he’s never experienced that kind of love, nor is he deserving of it. Especially from someone like Makoa, whose heart is very much tied to another. 

Even if he hadn’t learned it from overheard conversations, the abundance of photos that remain on the man’s laptop make it obvious he and Nik are happily committed. All this useless pining is just that—

The video suddenly changes, pulling Taejoon from his thoughts. He stops skimming to drink in the new scene.

The camera rests on a bedside table, partially blocked by the bulk of the mattress. Makoa lays on his back, t-shirt pulled up to his collarbone. Fabric straining against the muscle, accentuating every hard earned curve. His chest heaves with each breath, big hands gripping the sheet.

Nik is poised above, straddling the bigger man’s lap, and trailing his sex over the length of Makoa’s cock. He— wait. _Is he…?_

Taejoon’s belly lurches at the realization that Nikolas doesn’t have a dick— in the traditional sense, at least. Instead it mirrors Taejoon’s, and now that he’s looking closely, he should’ve noticed the pink scars along the man’s pectorals. The cock in Makoa’s mouth from the beginning must’ve been a prosthetic, and a good one at that.

It all only makes the entire scene more erotic. Makes it so much easier for Taejoon to imagine himself in Nik’s place, and he certainly feels it. The heat in his belly is burning now, desperate and hungry.

“ _Please_ ,” comes Makoa’s voice, noticeably winded. He’s begging. Already.

Nikolas appears unphased, and Taejoon envies his confidence. He’s teasing Makoa, reducing a mountain of a man to a whining mess. Like he knows how much the man wants this, wants him.

Here comes the melancholy again; an ache in Taejoon’s chest. Wonders how good it must feel, to desire and be desired in return. To be loved.

Then, before the self pity grows too strong, Nik relents, and starts to sink down on Makoa’s cock. That mask of confidence falters for the briefest of moments when he’s penetrated, expression contorted into something between pain and pleasure.

“Wait, wait, wait. _Shit_ ,” Nik removes himself just as quickly as they’d started, a noticeable shake in his thighs. 

“Nik?” Makoa raises his head, and even in the dark, he’s beautiful. “S’okay?”

“Yeah,” Nik grunts, stretching across the bed. His face is close to the camera as he rummages through the drawer underneath. “Just need some… here it is.”

Taejoon squirms uncomfortably at how close Nik is to the lens. This feels so much more intense than it should, like he and Nik’s gazes should have never met, even if only digitally. Who was this damn video even for?

Nik holds the small bottle in one hand, squeezing it into the palm of the other. A generous amount of clear lube piles up before he tosses it aside.

“Warm it up first,” Makoa reminds him. Judging by their expressions, this isn’t the first time he’s said those words.

Nik cocks his head to the right. “Get the camera.”

Makoa does as he’s told, hurriedly reaching toward it. Taejoon feels a hearty amount of anticipation for what will appear in the frame next, tightening his grip on the arm of his chair.

Nikolas’ face comes into view. It’s the clearest image of him Taejoon’s ever seen, and he’s mildly impressed. If anyone could win over someone like Makoa, it’d be a man who looks like this: dark hair spilling into his angular face, eyes intense.

Those eyes stare straight into the camera, and Taejoon is enraptured. Warm brown irises situated around blown pupils hide behind his heavy lids, lashes thick and curled at the ends. 

He spits into his palm, letting a thread of saliva hang from his plush lower lip before breaking it. From behind the camera, Makoa’s breathing goes from even to irregular, Taejoon sure that his is doing the same. 

With the prepared hand, Nik takes hold of Makoa’s cock and starts to pump. The camera shakily follows, refocusing on the man’s arousal. Nik’s fingers, though slender, are not delicate. They’ve seen more than their fair share of a trigger, but are gentle with Makoa. They stroke him slow and purposeful, coating the flushed skin with slick. 

“Too damn big,” he teases, and Taejoon has to agree. 

“Can always switch,” Makoa says from behind the camera, the usual humor in his tone. It adds a new image to Taejoon’s mind, yet another lewd fantasy of the man.

Makoa, on his belly, face contorted as Nikolas puts his prosthetic to use. Fucking into him, deep and slow. Filthy, wet noises still playing in his headphones, Taejoon’s eyes shut as he adjusts the mental image. Replaces Nikolas with himself, imagines how it’d be to—

“ _O-oh_ ,”

It's the most compromised Taejoon’s ever heard Makoa, making his gaze snap back to screen. At the top of the frame is Nikolas’s flat stomach, a hint of defined abs underneath the freckled skin. Dark curls start just above his navel, trailing down to his dick. He spread himself open for Makoa, providing a clear view of the first few inches buried into him.

Then he actually _laughs_. Chuckles low and smug to himself, giving a roll of his hips that nearly make Makoa drop the camera.

“Yeah, we’re doing this again. Your face just now was so worth it—“ The last syllable is interrupted when one of Makoa’s hands finds his hip, urging him further down.

Makoa’s voice is breathless, tone approaching something close to reverence. “It’s tight.”

“No shit, you’re fuckin’ huge,” Nik grunts, abdomen tensing as he tries to adjust himself. “Feels like I’m bein’ split open— _Fuck!_ ”

He’s interrupted once more when he slips another inch down, an honest to God whimper escaping from his lips. At the edge of the frame, his hands can be seen gripping the bulk of Makoa’s thighs, holding on for dear life.

Taejoon snaps the laptop shut, sucking in an uneven breath. Threads his fingers through his messy hair, tugging at the strands as he scolds himself.

_Idiot. You’re an idiot._

It was one thing to let himself be compromised by a useless crush on someone from the Arena — one of the most famous, no less. To enjoy the feel of Makoa’s hands reviving him in a match more than he should. It’s something else entirely to actually watch him have sex. To play voyeur to him and his lover, imagining himself in their places.

He’s still aroused, despite the shame. Clit hard and absolutely staining his underwear with slick. 

Nevertheless, he tries to choke back the want. Grabs the laptop, tosses it into the shoulder bag it arrived in, and hurries for the door.

* * *

Nikolas is the one to answer the door of he and Makoa’s apartment. He’s sweaty, cheeks flushed and loose tank top showing off the muscles in his arms. He removes a single wireless earbud from his left ear, mouth slightly ajar. 

It takes all of Taejoon’s self control to not turn around and bolt. 

Not only is this his first time meeting Nik, he can’t forget how he’d seen the man not even an hour prior. It doesn’t give him the upper hand the way pure information does— if anything, he feels weaker.

“I fixed Makoa’s computer. Please give this to him.” Taejoon extends the bag. 

Nik doesn’t take it, looking him up and down.

“You’re Crypto, right? Didn’t think you left the house,” Nik opens the door wider. “Come on in. ‘Koa’s in the back.”

Taejoon catches a glimpse of the studio apartment. At least it isn’t the same place as where they were in the video. The rational part of him, whatever’s left of it, shouts at him to go home.

Bowing his head in thanks, Taejoon steps inside.

It’s a stimulating room, to say the least. A flatscreen balanced atop an old table plays a recap of the most recent round of the Games on mute. It faces a large sofa made of dark leather, a distinctive dent in what must be Makoa’s preferred seat. 

Between the back of the couch and the kitchenette sits a treadmill, paused halfway through a third mile. 

“You fixed it!”

Taejoon nods, and it strikes him that he’s never seen Makoa dressed so casually. He’s wearing a vibrant t-shirt with shorts that have definitely seen better days, thighs straining against the fabric. 

“Thank God,” Nik interjects, opening the refrigerator. “Haven’t been able to do my paperwork for a week.”

Taejoon places the open bag onto the counter separating him and Makoa, already planning on turning to leave.

“So what was the problem?” Makoa asks, removing the computer. 

“A virus. You should install a VPN,” Taejoon pauses as he watches Makoa open the laptop, his eyes widening suddenly. “That’s, uh,”

He never closed the window.

_Idiot!_

Taejoon watches, horrified, as Makoa beckons Nik over. Peering over his partner’s shoulder, Nikolas’ brows raise in surprise.

“I forgot we did that,” he snorts.

“Heh. Me too.”

Nikolas’ gaze moves from the screen to Taejoon. 

“Nosy, aren’t you?”

Taejoon’s face feels as if it’s been set ablaze, so hot he can hardly stand it. Opens his mouth to speak, croaking out an apology.

“You got pretty far along,” Nik continues. Taejoon shoots Makoa, his closest thing to a friend, a pleading look. The man is focused entirely on his boyfriend’s face, expression unreadable.

“Liked what you saw?”

The vehement shake of his head is mostly instinctual, but it earns a hearty laugh from Makoa. That damn laugh; one of the first sounds he’d heard from the man, illuminating the room like a sunrise.

“I overstepped. Forgive me.” Eyes glued to the floor, Taejoon leaps to his feet and all but runs to the door. 

“Hey, new guy. Hey!”

Makoa stops him just as his fingers wrap around the solid doorknob, the only thing blocking his escape from this self-inflicted hell. Shame is burning his blood from inside the veins, throat as dry as the one of a man dying of thirst. 

“Hey,” Makoa repeats, voice gentler than it was before. “S’okay.”

Through grit teeth, “It’s not.”

“Yeah it is, new guy. I mean, not that I expected ya to look, but we don’t mind. Do we, Nik?”

“Nah.” Nikolas is closer than Taejoon assumed. And, come to think of it, so is Makoa. Close enough for him to smell what must be a combination of cologne and aftershave.

Releasing his vice grip on the knob, Taejoon slowly turns. Presses his back against the wood of the front door, finally making eye contact. The ones he meets are kind, welcoming him in, but with a hint of something else. It reminds him of the start of the video that got him here in the first place.

“You hungry?” Makoa asks, the quirk of his lip betraying that he’s not talking about food. 

Taejoon swallows. “Yeah.”

“Stay for dinner?”

* * *

“Don’t be shy,” Makoa’s voice rumbles in Taejoon’s ears, simultaneously vibrating inskxs the broad chest pressed to his back. “You got a great body.”

Taejoon would object, if he were in any condition to do so. His average sized, bordering-on-skinny form is downright dwarfed by the couple’s bodies. There’s so much _muscle_ , even on Nik’s leaner torso.

He’s propped up against Makoa’s bare chest, held securely between strong thighs. Big hands stroke his heated skin, tuck stray strands of hair behind his ear while Nik strips in front of him. He’s not entirely sure this isn’t a dream.

“You like your chest touched?” Nik asks.

Taejoon blinks. It’d never occurred to another partner to ask him that before— not that he’s had many.

“And down here?” Makoa adds, flattening a palm against the space underneath his navel.

“I am comfortable with both,” Taejoon says finally, not sounding as sure as he’d like to.

“You tell us if that changes,” Makoa’s speaking directly into his ear now, breath humid against his skin. “Gibraltar’s right here, eh?”

Then Makoa’s mouth is on his, and any residual anxiety is washed away. A wide tongue traces the shape of his lips before pressing inside, lapping into the heat. One big hand trails up his belly to chest, massaging his breast appreciatively. Meanwhile, Nik’s slots between his thighs.

“Somebody’s excited,” he muses, smug in a way that would irk Taejoon in any other context. “Liked the video?”

Words seem so hard to grasp from here, between the two men, trying his best to keep up with the hungry pace of Makoa’s kiss. Perhaps sensing his overstimulation, Nik doesn’t demand an answer, a single finger tracing his folds.

He’s gotten himself so worked up already that he doesn’t need much preparation, and they both know it. He feels Nik’s middle finger slip inside him with ease, gasping into Makoa’s mouth at the intrusion.

“There you go,” Makoa hums. “Let it out.”

A second digit joins the first with little ceremony, stretching him wider on the upstroke. Taejoon’s only slightly aware of the noises he’s making, grunting with each movement of Nik’s fingers. It’s scratching an itch he didn’t know he had, spreading molten heat through his body.

Makoa separates their mouths, nuzzling the shape of Taejoon’s cheekbone with his nose before taking hold of his chest with both hands. Thumbing his hardened nipples, calluses harsh on the sensitive flesh.

“You’re really responsive, you know that?” Nik asks. And Taejoon thought Makoa was talkative. “Seen you on TV a couple of times: always got a frown.”

“‘Cept when he gets a kill. Good shot he is,” Makoa interjects, and Taejoon squirms under the praise.

“Look at him now,” Nik teases. “Trying to keep himself together, keep on looking serious. But he can’t. Feels too good.”

“You have a silver tongue, Nikolas,” Taejoon swallows, trying to compose himself. He has a persona— and an ego, more importantly, to maintain. “But can you keep your word?”

He swears he catches Nik shiver. _That_ definitely flipped a switch somewhere, because the man retracts his fingers and starts to undress fully. 

Makoa makes sure to not leave Taejoon empty for long, slipping one big finger inside. It’s nearly as wide as both of Nik’s, making him burn with the stretch while his head swims. He’s the first to touch his neglected clit, and Taejoon nearly jumps out of the man’s grasp with how hard he spasms.

Makoa jerks him off at a steady pace, circling his erection gently before stroking the short length of it. Taejoon watches him, helpless, grinding against the heel of the man’s palm. If he’s dreaming, he doesn’t care. 

“Can you pick him up?”

Taejoon looks back to Nik, who’s tightening the harness situated around his waist. The same strap on from the video hangs between his legs, level of detail betraying how expensive it must’ve been.

“‘Course I can,” Makoa’s hands leave his dick, moving to the outside of his thighs. They squeeze the muscle. “This okay?”

What are they— oh. _Oh._ Nikolas wants to fuck him, while Makoa holds him in place. Right between the two of them. He nods, a bit too eager.

“Lube,” Makoa chides as Nik approaches. Taejoon feels the bed disappear from underneath him as he’s lifted higher by sturdy hands.

“He can handle it,” He teases his entrance with the tip of his cock, and Taejoon wants this so bad it nearly hurts. To feel the man inside of him, to be wanted. “Can’t you?”

“I will not break,” Taejoon confirms, and it’s settled.

Nikolas is still gentle when he slips inside. Presses deeper and deeper at an agonizingly slow pace before ultimately bottoming out, leaving Taejoon clawing at Makoa’s arms for purchase. Nik’s body is flush against his own, chest heaving as he struggles to catch his breath.

“Look how good you did,” Makoa coos, nudging the side Taejoon’s jaw. Urging him to look for himself.

Peering over his chest and belly, he catches a glimpse of Nikolas inside him. Buried as far as he can go, feeling him in his most intimate area. This almost feels like a violation of privacy to a man secretive as him, but it’s been so very long since he felt desired, gave himself this much breathing room.

Bracing a hand on Taejoon’s sternum, Nik starts to move. Snaps his hips in short, shallow movements while craning his neck for a better view. The room fills with a distinctively wet sound, and the impact of skin against skin. 

Taejoon lets his head loll back into the crook of Makoa’s neck, losing himself in the steady rhythm of Nik’s cock inside him. Feels Makoa adjust his grip on him, and the shape of his erection against his lower back. 

For a moment, he imagines it inside instead. Or, maybe, pressed against Nik’s, both men fighting for space in him, stretching him to his limit. 

He feels his dick twitch at the thought. These two might just be the end of him.

As time passes, Nik’s pace stays relentless. When Makoa’s grip starts to falter, Taejoon is moved to rest on his back, head propped up on the couple’s innumerable pillows. His thoughts feel slippery, harder for him to hold onto as Nik slips in and out of him, touching just enough to keep him stimulated without letting him come.

Then, mercifully, Nik’s hand finds his dick. Jerks him in time with his thrusts until he’s surging forward to meet the friction, teetering on the edge of release. That molten heat has pooled impossibly low in his belly, threatening to boil over. Body incredibly hot, clit throbbing, and he’s about to— he’s going to—

_He’s coming._

Ecstasy washes over him, each muscle collectively tensing and releasing. The rest of the world, his life of glances over his shoulder, sick to his stomach with paranoia, fades into the background. Closes in until there’s nothing but the apartment and the bed he’s in, held by a pair of beautiful men.

They all seem to go still as Taejoon waits to catch his breath. Becomes more aware of how hard his heart is hammering in his chest with each passing second, then feels something wet on his neck. He wipes at it, another drop trailing down his cheek.

Is he crying? Taejoon inhales experimentally, an audible sniffle coming from his nose.

The other men seem to notice. Nik slides out of him while Makoa swipes the tears away with his thumbs, face contorted by worry. They both hover above him, _doting_ on him, like he’s part of their relationship.

Taejoon tries to speak, though it’s little more than a croak from his dry throat. Nik shushes him, directing Makoa to grab him some water. He takes the opportunity to wriggle out of the harness, letting it drop the floor unceremoniously.

Makoa insists on holding the glass for him as Taejoon takes long, grateful swallows of the water. It soothes his throat all the way down, settling in his belly.

“Why’re you doing this?” He asks neither of them in particular. “Treating me so well?”

Nik steals a sip, rolling his eyes. “You’re funny.”

Taejoon frowns. 

“Why wouldn’t we?” Makoa offers, shockingly composed for a man that’s still noticeably hard. 

It’s a fair argument: neither of them have any reason to dislike him, but what do they have to enjoy his presence? The embrace of companionship hasn’t held Taejoon in so long that it’s become foreign and intimidating. 

“I want more,” he says, surprised by his own boldness. Lets his gaze meet both Nik and Makoa’s to show he means it. “If you’ll have me.”

Nik chuckles, muttering something that sounds dangerously close to _gonna be the death of me._

Makoa’s closest, so Taejoon reaches for him first. After receiving a nod of permission he pulls at the button of the man’s shorts, then the zipper. He’s greeted by a lack of underwear, and the subsequent sight of the man’s cock. Curving slightly to the left, it hangs heavy, head flushed a furious shade of red. He takes hold of the base, not missing the breath Makoa sucks through his teeth.

Fumbling as he does, Taejoon sits up fully in the bed. One of Makoa’s knees braced on the space next to him, cock so close it’s threatening to brush against his face. He opens his lips, taking it into his mouth. 

And immediately gags.

Nik snorts. “Nice one, kid.”

“I am not a _kid_ ,” Taejoon snaps, the word forever spoiled by Mirage and his big mouth. Just being reminded of that insufferable man, especially in this context, is almost enough to make him gag again.

Nik raises his hands in defeat, but sidles up to him. Holds Taejoon’s face in one hand, thumbing his bottom lip.

“Open. I’m helping.”

Taejoon relaxes, letting the man urge his mouth into a perfect O shape. Warm fingers adjust how he holds his head, then massage the muscles in his throat. 

“Keep ‘em just like this,” Nik tells him, voice husky. “‘Koa will slide right in.”

“Ain’t that simple,” Makoa grunts from above.

“Yeah it is,” Nik says. Without breaking eye contact with Taejoon, he spits into his palm and starts working at Makoa’s cock, coating the length with it and the precome that’d gathered at the head. “Now try.”

Taejoon shuts his eyes, concentrating fully on keeping his throat from clenching shut again. Feels the weight of Makoa’s cock on his tongue and he flattens it as much as possible, making more room. 

The weight increases, tip pressing into the back of his throat and jaw aching from strain, but he takes almost all of what Makoa has to give. Pride blooms in his chest. The leftover length is taken care of by Nik’s hand wrapped firmly around it, stroking hurriedly.

When his eyes finally reopen, Taejoon sees Makoa holding on by a thread. He’s panting, thick brows knit together and a hand clamped over his mouth. It does little to stifle the noise he’s making; grunts and moans from impossibly low in his chest. 

Nik controls the pace at which Makoa thrusts into Taejoon’s throat, careful not to choke him. It’s only when he’s about to climax that Makoa stops him, removing his dick entirely.

“Where should I…?” He asks, winded, while squeezing the base of his cock.

Without thinking, Taejoon replies, “My face.”

They all seem equally surprised by his forwardness, Makoa’s expression teetering toward sheepish. 

“You heard the man, ‘Koa.”

“I can’t…”

There’s a sinking feeling in his gut, anxiety that he’d done something wrong, that he’s not enough for the man.

“Don’t worry,” interrupts Nik, a hand on his shoulder. “Big guy’s too nice to do that on the first date. How about your chest?”

“Yeah,” Taejoon nods, leaning back, bracing himself up on his elbows. “Like this?”

“Perfect,” Makoa breathes, knees braced on either side of his body. Taejoon blooms under the praise as he watches the man fist his cock, hips twitching as he strokes himself to completion.

Makoa comes with a groan, doing his best to angle himself away from Taejoon’s face. Ropes of come land on his sternum and collarbone, hot and sticky against his skin. Chest heaving for air, Makoa strokes the remainder of his orgasm from his dick before coming to a stop. Threads a hand through his long hair, trying to ground himself. 

Even in the post orgasmic haze, Taejoon’s head feels clearer than it has all day. He insists on being the one to hold the wet cloth when it’s time to clean up, wiping the thick come off. Now that desire isn’t driving his every move, it is much harder for him to accept being coddled.

“I should go,” he says, already hurrying into his pants. 

“Why?” Nik asks, already stepping back into his workout shorts. He’d insisted he’d gotten plenty from the encounter, and didn’t need a helping hand.

Taejoon wasn’t expecting that. He searches his brain for an excuse, finding none. But neither can he find a reason to stay that doesn’t compromise him entirely or involve a premature love confession.

“Weren’t you gonna stay for dinner?” Makoa asks, throwing him a rope.

Taejoon grabs it, and holds on tight. “Yeah, I was.”

**Author's Note:**

> temporarily escaped apex twt but I came crawling back. @thunderdomed


End file.
